


The more you say

by username_goes_here



Series: The Doumeki Family Storybook [8]
Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Doumeki has to explain things some time, Family, I hate that egg, Shopkeeper Watanuki, this is practically an OC story what with all these Doumekis running around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-27 15:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20951006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/username_goes_here/pseuds/username_goes_here
Summary: The more you say, the better they understand.The Doumeki family has a bit of an odd situation, caring for an unchanging wish-granter trapped in a shop full of magic. It requires explanation to kids, to friends, to spouses. No one is perfect at offering it, but it needs to be said if the responsibility is to pass on.Or, how the Doumekis pass on and explain their duties to each other and the people they love.





	1. Doumeki Haru

**Author's Note:**

> I received a prompt to write how Doumeki explains and passes on this responsibility to his kids and how they explain to their spouses through multiple generations. Let's see what happens, shall we? This story will have multiple chapters, though I'm not sure how many.

It wasn’t lost on Haru the oddity of the situation.

Though the Shop was like a second home to him and for much of his life he thought it was perfectly normal. It was only as he got older that he began to notice things that just weren’t quite right.

For one, Watanuki never left the shop. Haru didn’t quite realize this until he and his sister were old enough to request they be taken places by him, or ask that he visit them at their house. Mokona visited sometimes, but never Watanuki or Maru or Moro. No matter how much Haru had begged Watanuki to leave just the one time to see him at his primary school graduation, Watanuki had to tell him no. Haru asked why, but Watanuki had just told him he couldn’t leave. That he had customers to take care of. That the Shop needed him. But Haru could tell there was something more to the explanation. When he asked his older sister, Ayame, she just told him it was like a fairy tale curse and Watanuki was stuck. Haru didn't question. Certainly he didn’t understand, but he didn’t question.

Of course there was Mokona, that was a weird little thing. Like a stuffed animal that came to life. Apparently it was a magical creature that seemed to be powered by alcohol, though no one would confirm or deny this. When he mentioned and described it to a friend, she had thought he was describing an imaginary friend. Haru just agreed, then stopped talking about it at school.

Maru and Moro were strange. They often spoke in unison, didn’t really seem to eat, and were perpetually children. He didn’t quite realize until he was almost their height. When he asked, he was told they, too, were magic. In fact, Ayame once told them they had no souls. He didn’t know whether that was true, but the thought had kept him awake all night.

The wishes, that was also strange. Occasionally at the shop, he and his sister were sent to the back while Watanuki helped a customer. They obliged, but eventually curiosity got the better of them and they peeked through the curtains to watch. Watanuki noticed and tried to shoo them away, but turned back to his customer and thought a moment before just shrugging and continuing on. They took that as permission to stay. Their mother took customers sometimes, but only for fortune readings and they were almost always booked ahead, and if anyone showed up without an appointment, she would sometimes tell them to come another time. Watanuki however, took every customer that came in. And although Ayame and Haru had been told Watanuki granted wishes, they had thought that was a joke of some sort. But no, that woman came with a wish, to heal a loved one. Watanuki had paused a moment and seemed to be concentrating very hard before he said, “I can grant that wish. There is a price, however,” for it seemed nothing came for free. It made Haru wonder, even at his young age of nine, what that meant for the gifts Watanuki often gave them.

Oddest of all was Watanuki himself. Not only was he apparently stuck in this Shop and granted wishes in his off time, he was magic as well, though apparently human. Mokona, Maru, Moro, they were all created by magic, but Watanuki was human, as best Haru could tell. He had a sense for these things, he found as he grew, and although Watanuki had an odd quality about him, he was definitely human. The most noticeable of these odd qualities was his youth.

His father and mother were good friends with Watanuki, Haru had been told, though the more he thought about it, the less sense that made. Watanuki was fairly young, right? He had an older air about him, what with those old style Chinese and Japanese style clothes and wise words that felt incongruous from his appearance, but he was definitely young. Where had his parents even met Watanuki?

And as Haru got older, he realized that not only was Watanuki young, he never got older. Haru didn’t quite put it together until middle school, as he began to approach Watanuki’s height but not his father’s. He thought maybe it was just that Watanuki was short, but… As Haru thought back, Watanuki had never, never changed. His eyes were lively, his face was still weirdly adolescent despite the adult demeanor, and he had an unexpected amount of energy when cleaning the Shop for someone his supposed age. Around the time he noticed, Haru had asked how old he was and Watanuki thought for a moment before saying, “47, I think…” as if he didn't actually know. Haru asked what year he was born then, because he wanted an exact answer, but Watanuki just shrugged and told him he didn’t know. Odd in and of itself, but 47? Watanuki didn’t look any older than 20 at most, probably younger.

Haru wasn’t really one to question things. He took whatever happened in stride. If something happened, it happened and Haru was fine with that. Nature did its thing, magic did its thing, and Haru did his thing.

But it was bugging him. The situation was just more and more bizarre and he couldn’t ignore it. He had been given the weekly chore of grocery shopping for Watanuki, which also occurred to Haru as being odd, so finally he decided to ask about it. He was 17 after all, and he felt that was old enough to get the full story.

Who to ask though?

Ayame was a no-go, and not only because she was away at university across the country. She was also prone to exaggeration and hyperbole, so Haru didn’t always trust her to tell the full truth.

That left his parents or Watanuki. It was somewhat intimidating to ask Watanuki, especially with him being prone to vague answers that sometimes left Haru more confused than when he’d started. But he was the source of the mystery, so clearly he most know the most about the situation. It seemed logical.

So he started there.

////

Haru had just come back from his weekly grocery trip, sure to grab everything on the list Watanuki had recited over the phone, though at this point Haru knew everything that was and wasn’t in Watanuki’s pantry and could have come up with most of this list himself.

Maru and Moro were the first to greet him, as usual, and they hugged him on either side, then offered to take the grocery bags to the kitchen. He obliged and they cheered, eager to help. They were intercepted by Watanuki on the way to the kitchen however, who peeked into one of the bags–the one with the produce.

“Haruka-kun we need to have a discussion about your choice in vegetables,” he sighed before letting the girls finish their job. “Thank you nonetheless.”

Haru frowned and Watanuki smiled softly, almost pained. Haru wasn’t great at reading Watanuki’s emotions though. They were so oddly concealed at times, but occasionally his eyes would go wide or he’d properly scowl. Something told Haru he would get better at it though, if he spent more time with him.

“Next time I’ll just text a picture,” Haru offered.

“Mm, I hate texting.”

“Then I guess I’ll learn.”

“Your father got better at it, I’m sure you’ll do the same. If I use the leeks tonight they will be fine. Maybe a soup.” Watanuki seemed to be thinking, tapping his finger to his chin.

“Soup is good.”

“Staying for dinner again?”

“Only fair.”

Watanuki smiled. “I have to pay you for doing the shopping, now don't I?”

Haru nodded, and Watanuki turned back the kitchen. Haru followed, hoping there would be snacks waiting.

Which naturally there were. Seemed Watanuki had been in the process of making onigiri, so Haru picked one that looked nice and began eating it as he’d seen his father do so many times.

Watanuki rolled his eyes before returning to his work. “The Doumeki stomach never changes, does it?”

“Guess not,” Haru agreed after swallowing, for he had received that lecture one too many times.

It took a long moment of silence for Haru to finally decide to ask his questions.

“Watanuki-san,” he began, “I have some questions.”

Watanuki nodded. “I thought you might, eventually. You took much longer than Ayame-chan.”

Of course she would have questioned him already.

“Though she asked your parents, not me,” Watanuki told him, turning around, his robe twirling as he did so. “Why not ask them?”

Watanuki’s mismatched eyes were as unreadable as ever.

“They’re questions about you,” Haru explained. "So I decided to ask you.”

“Sensible,” said Watanuki. “Tell me what you would like to know, and I will answer as much and as honestly as I can, though I should warn you I don’t know as much as you may think.”

Haru nodded before starting his questioning, wondering how many of his guesses were right and how much was far more mysterious than he could have expected.

“How did you meet my parents?”

Watanuki hummed and looked off in the distance as if remembering.

“That was… over 30 years ago. 35, maybe? High school.”

Haru frowned. “My _dad_ was in high school 35 years ago,” he said. “But _you_…”

“I’m older than I look.” Watanuki looked back to Haru, and when he said that Haru could almost see the years in his eyes, if nowhere else.

“Why? Maru and Moro, they’re magic but you… You’re human.”

Watanuki nodded, but seemed hesitant to do so. “I suppose.”

Haru narrowed his eyes at him. Asking Watanuki had obviously been the wrong approach.

“It’s a price,” Watanuki said then. “I paid it long ago… The time in me.”

“For what?”

“I’m still not sure I understand myself, but it was a necessary payment, to leave that place.”

“When?” Haru didn’t even bother asking what “that place” was, knowing if Watanuki didn’t already say, he was never going to.

“Oh, I… might have been your age. Possibly younger.”

Haru was somewhat alarmed at the information that his body was older than Watanuki’s. That his time had already surpassed that of his odd uncle. He took a moment to process the information that he’d been given before continuing.

“And that’s why you can’t leave the shop?”

“Mmm no. That’s a separate matter.”

Yes, asking Watanuki had been the wrong course of action.

“And that matter is also the reason you grant wishes.”

“Not necessarily.”

“You haven’t answered a single question.”

Watanuki frowned, considering this. Hopefully reconsidering this.

“You’re right. I haven’t.”

And then he went back to his onigiri, quietly.

Haru huffed, and decided to leave it at that, but it seemed Watanuki wasn’t done.

“I started working here as a part-timer,” he said, sounding so far away, so nostalgic.

Haru was quiet, letting Watanuki speak as much as he was willing.

“I worked under the previous shop owner: Ichihara Yuuko…”

Haru had heard of a previous shop owner before, but never directly, only in passing.

“Yuuko-san was… well, she was a pain in my ass. Worked me for every last drop, though it was my payment so I had agreed to it. Didn’t mean I did any of that work without complaint, mind you. I met your father around then…”

Payment?

“What was your wish?”

Watanuki was quiet for a moment before answering, still not looking up from his work.

“I didn’t want to see them anymore, or be chased by them.”

Haru didn’t need to be told what “they” were, he knew. Spirits weren’t much of an issue in his life, as Haru had inherited his father’s talent. Or just an attribute, it’s not like Haru did anything to repel the spirits; they just didn’t come near him for one reason or another. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t need to, it just was. His sister saw them and when they were younger, she had days where she wouldn’t leave Haru’s side for fear of a gruesome spirit.

But apparently Watanuki didn’t just _see_ spirits, he was chased by them. Haru thought he could understand that wish, though it seems it wasn’t granted, for Watanuki saw more spirits than anyone. His eyes saw things even his mother and sister couldn’t.

“It wasn’t granted then.”

“It would have been. I needed it to be Shopkeeper.”

“Mm.”

“A Doumeki response,” Watanuki huffed. “I hated your father. He still irks me. Blank face. Eats all my food. Doesn’t…”

Watanuki sighed.

“It didn’t go over well with him, with many people. My decision, but… To get out of that place and to see Yuuko-san again…”

The kitchen was quiet for a while as Watanuki stopped in his talking and his cooking. Maru and Moro were by his side quickly, hugging him from either side as they tended to at times.

Haru wanted to break off the odd silence and snap Watanuki out of this odd moment. He usually displayed nothing but a calm, collected, and content demeanor… though he could also get annoyed sometimes (particularly at Haru’s father) and excited and occasionally even a little silly, though not as much as Haru and Ayame grew older. He recalled Watanuki happily refereeing many water gun and snowball fights in the yard.

Certainly there were days when Watanuki was sad and distant. When Haru and Ayame played with Maru and Moro and Mokona while Watanuki laid back on his couch and said very little.

But Haru had never heard Watanuki talk about the old Shopkeeper, about this Yuuko, and this felt like a different sadness, a deeper one. Haru cranked his neck to see Watanuki better, almost expecting tears, but instead he was just smiling, lost in a memory, Haru supposed.

“I could do stir fry instead,” Watanuki said suddenly, then went back to his cooking and Haru supposed that was as much as he would get from him.

So instead, he brought it up to his father that night. His mother had gone to bed by the time he returned from the Shop, leaving his father reading in his usual chair. Haru thought it was as good a time as any.

“Father, I would like to ask you some questions.”

His father set aside his book and reading glasses, recently acquired and apparently sorely needed, and gave Haru his full attention.

His father’s attention was different from Watanuki’s attention, for all that they supposedly shared an eye. Whereas Watanuki made eye contact, he tended to look through you, almost past you at times, like he could see something behind your eyes. Occasionally his lips would quirk into a an odd smile like he just remembered something funny, but generally as you spoke his face was soft and he would occasionally nod. Though Haru had been the recipient of some eye-rolls and scowls as of late, apparently due to how much he reminded Watanuki of his father.

But his father’s attention was direct. Piercing, almost. He saw and heard everything you said and did. His father was solid and present in all the ways Watanuki was ephemeral and distant, but you received the same empathy and understanding from both. Though his father was much more direct in his answering, whether or not it was helpful.

Haru had his father’s full attention, he knew, so he began.

“I spoke with Watanuki today.”

His father nodded. “He called me.”

////

When Watanuki called Shizuka that night, Shizuka wasn’t sure what it was about. He knew Haru had gone by to drop off groceries, thus would likely stay for dinner, giving Shizuka and Kohane a quiet night in. He had spent the day before exorcising a good number of spirits at the behest of Watanuki, so he was glad for the rest. He was around his son’s age when the ability became usable, so he sorely hoped Haru showed an affinity soon. It was tiring, and both Shizuka and Watanuki knew it wouldn’t be sustainable forever.

So when Watanuki called, Shizuka was desperately hoping it wasn’t another job, but if it was he would be ready. That’s what he did. If Watanuki couldn’t do it, Shizuka would.

But instead, it was about Haru. 

“Doumeki,” Watanuki had begun with very little preamble. “Haru-kun will be home in a few minutes. He stayed late for drinks—don’t start, I recall you drinking younger than that, I think, and it wasn’t strong, he’s fine, apparently he has _your_ tolerance—but he might… want to talk with you.”

It wasn’t often that Watanuki spit out so many words without a breath, at least not these days.

“About you?”

“...yes.”

“How much have you told him?”

“Just the basics, but he understands more than I tell him, you know that. He’s very perceptive.”

“Mm.”

“Such a Doumeki reply; he does that too.”

“Mm.” Shizuka couldn’t help it. He could hear the frown on the other line and Shizuka was just happy to remember that this was the same Watanuki, even after all these years.

The line was quiet for a moment though, as it seemed they were both thinking about how, exactly, to explain these bizarre circumstances.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Watanuki said then, so, so quietly. “If they don’t want to, it’s… I’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

The line was quiet for a moment before Watanuki ended the call.

Shizuka returned to his book and Haru came home not much later, so he put it aside without getting much further in.

“I spoke with Watanuki today,” Haru said. 

“He called me,” Shizuka told him.

“Ah. What did he say?”

“Just to talk with you.”

“Okay.”

Shizuka had previously explained this to his eldest, Ayame, and considering how long it took Haru to come to them, he thought Ayame might have just explained it to him, as she tended to do with most things. Haru would then usually take a few days to think over the information, then come to Shizuka or Kohane to clarify the inconsistencies in Ayame’s bizarre stories. They thought since he hadn’t come, she had taken the story seriously enough to explain it all the way through, but apparently Haru never really questioned. They’d had small discussions from time to time, but never a very in-depth, and certainly not about the future. Maybe now was the time.

“I’ll take care of him,” Haru said then, which both surprised and didn’t surprise Shizuka. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Ah, this is what Shizuka was afraid of, ever since his children had been born. That they would feel the obligation. That he and Kohane only had children to tie them to the shop.

And it was true, in a sense, but as they met their children, as they grew, as they developed these personalities and likes and dislikes and passions and hopes… it felt more and more selfish. To just assume that these kids would give up any and all dreams, just to take care of their father's high school friend.

More than a friend, really, though Shizuka had given up a long, long time ago. That didn’t change the circumstances. Both Shizuka and Kohane wanted every opportunity for their children, which conflicted with their original thoughts. They wanted to pass on this responsibility for their children, but the older the kids got, the more they realized they would never be able to ask this of them. They would have to choose to do this on their own, no matter what Shizuka and Kohane hoped for.

When Ayame had declared her intention to go to university across the country, the family was nothing but supportive. They made a family trip of it and everything. She would be graduating this year with a degree in journalism and Shizuka and Kohane (and Watanuki as well) couldn’t be prouder. She would be starting a new job soon in Hong Kong of all places. Too far from Tokyo for a family trip, but they hoped they could stagger visits.

As for what Haru would do… it was his final year of high school and he had applied to both local and distant universities, but had yet to commit to either a school or a field of study.

“Haruka, this is your decision, not ours,” Shizuka told him. Which one would Shizuka prefer didn’t matter. He didn’t even know which one he preferred. Whatever made his son happy.

“I know,” said Haru. “I want to.”

Shizuka knew once the decision was made, Haru wouldn’t waver. He didn’t make whim decisions, he always thought them over extensively. Which led to him taking his time to do anything, but the overall resolve was nothing if not a Doumeki trait.

Shizuka couldn't help but feel relief, followed by guilt.

“I’ll go to the university nearby, and keep up with my studies.”

And it would be easier for Haru than it had been for Shizuka. Haru wasn’t dealing with the beginning. With the drinking and the injuries and he certainly wouldn’t have to deal with the pure heartache that Shizuka and Kohane worked through daily. Haru knew nothing other than this Shopkeeper. He didn’t know what Watanuki had been before.

Then again, as Watanuki grew, even before he inherited the shop, he seemed to be heading here. Maybe this Watanuki wasn’t quite as odd as Shizuka often thought him to be. Maybe no matter what happened, this was the situation they were all fated for. Inevitable from the start.

Shizuka tended not to think like that though. The place they ended up was all due to their choices. Watanuki chose the Shop and Yuuko, and Shizuka and Kohane chose Watanuki, then each other. Hitsuzen would follow, he could only assume. Inevitability couldn’t possibly dictate everything, no matter what Watanuki said or how resolutely he said them.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then you should know the whole story.”

////

Haru’s suspicions were confirmed. It didn’t need to be said, but Haru knew that his father had hoped Haru or Ayame would take care of Watanuki as he and his mother had. If Haru were to take this responsibility on, it would mean his whole life would be tied to this Shop, to Watanuki.

And not just his life, the life of his future partner and his future children. Whether or not Haru chose this made all the difference in his entire life path. He would live in Tokyo forever, not far from the shop. Any travel plans would be tedious, near-impossible. Extra income would go to more groceries than necessary, and he would have to help Watanuki with any and all wishes he couldn’t grant from inside the Shop. Was this what Haru wanted out of his life?

Maybe, maybe not. But it was a choice he would make and a choice he would stick to. Watanuki was an important person to him and to his family. Haru would do this.

“Then you should know the whole story,” his father said, so Haru sat and listened.

Apparently his father and Watanuki were reluctant friends in high school. Watanuki was plagued by spirits and his father was the obvious cure to that. The previous Shopkeeper, Yuuko, had pushed them together apparently. The two of them, along with another of his father’s close friends, Himawari was her name, made for a good, if eclectic group of friends. Watanuki made them near-daily lunches and split his time between them and his part-time job at the Shop. At some point, circumstances got strange. Of course circumstances were always strange around Watanuki, his father assured him (as if Haru wasn’t already aware), but they just got odder and odder. Watanuki didn’t seem to remember a lot of their interactions or conversations and would just zone out from time to time, coming to minutes or hours later completely unaware of what had happened. His father was concerned, scared even. It was around this time that his mother entered their lives. She had just been a child then, and Watanuki had protected her, something no one seemed to be able to do for Watanuki. For all that his parents were there for Watanuki, what plagued him in that time was deeper than spirits. A previous price, one he didn’t remember paying, took his memories from him before he even made friends with Haru’s father. The payment was for another boy, one traveling worlds, and his group. Haru’s father wasn’t sure of all the details, had never really been told them outright (even the boy himself couldn’t offer a proper explanation), but it led to all of Watanuki’s memories being tied to that Shop. Watanuki didn’t know where he grew up, what he did as a kid, who his parents were, his own real name, or even what his own food tastes like. When that old Shopkeeper, Yuuko, disappeared so suddenly…

Watanuki decided to wait for her. She was his most important person, just the same way that he was so many others’ most important person. He became the new Shopkeeper and is waiting there for her. He doesn’t age, again a price because of the traveling boy, and cannot leave because he isn’t powerful enough yet. Though Haru didn’t know what that was supposed to mean; Watanuki wasn’t weak in the slightest, as far as he could tell. Because of all this, Watanuki will live for as long as his price is being played out, never leave the shop grounds for as long as it took his power to grow, and be Shopkeeper for as long as Yuuko is dead.

Forever, Haru thought. People don’t come back from the dead. Surely Watanuki knew that.

Haru’s father took it upon himself to care for Watanuki, apparently. Do his shopping, help with wishes as needed, perform whatever odd jobs and errands needed doing outside the shop. It was a responsibility he took very seriously and held near to his heart. Not that his father phrased it like that, but Haru knew this about both his parents.

It was a responsibility Haru, too, would hold near to his heart.

His father spent some time explaining Watanuki’s position as Shopkeeper and how that affects him and will affect Haru in the future.

But when the story was finished by all accounts, Haru’s father apparently had one last thing to tell him. Whatever it was, it was an object lesson, for he left the room to retrieve something, leaving Haru kneeling on the floor to process the information.

It all certainly was odd. Odder than Haru had originally thought. The story was more than anticipated, and was now a bizarre family legacy he would proudly uphold.

His father returned quickly, holding something in his hands.

“This is important,” his father said as he sat down. He held out his hand to show Haru what he had retrieved: an egg. Of all things, an egg. It clearly wasn’t any sort of normal egg, though it certainly looked normal. “Take it.”

He handed it over to Haru, who held it in his hands and found he didn’t much like it. The egg felt like nothing was in it, and that with the wrong touch, that nothing could spread. Haru felt that if it was misused, it could never be undone. The finality of a void.

“I was given this years ago by Yuuko-san,” his father explained. “To use when the time comes.”

“The time for what?”

His father paused for a long moment, then spoke as if reciting:

“Nothing will be born from this egg,” he said. “This egg cannot create, it will add nothing to this world. It can only take.”

“Take what?”

“It can purify."

Haru turned the tiny egg around in his hands, confused.

"Why did Yuuko-san give this to you?"

"It purifies memory," his father explained.

"Memory…" Haru repeated, unsure what his father meant.

"Watanuki's memories of Yuuko-san."

The egg suddenly felt heavy in Haru's hand and he wasn’t sure he wanted it in his hands any more. To get rid of Watanuki’s memory of a person so important to him…

Haru thought back to that moment in the kitchen. Watanuki standing there, so sad. The girls at his side, his soft and far-away tone. The heartbreak. Perhaps taking away those memories could help him move on.

But then Haru remembered the smile on Watanuki’s face. The nostalgia. His sadness was painful, yes, but mixed with what were truly happy memories. To take them away sounded like the cruelest thing Haru could do to the man.

“Keep it with you, always,” his father said. “Don’t hesitate, when the time comes.”

“What time?” Haru asked. He couldn’t think of a single instance when he would make this decision, a single situation where this would be a kindness of any sort.

“You will know if it comes.”

His father didn’t elaborate, which meant that either he had never been told himself, or Haru didn’t need to know any more about this “time to come”.

Haru nodded and put the egg in his shirt pocket. It was so small, it fit perfectly. He didn’t want it to fit perfectly though. He wanted it as far away as possible, but if his father said it was important… if that old Shopkeeper said it was important, then Haru would do it.

And it seemed that was all there was to say for now.


	2. Ishikawa Reiko

Most duties with Watanuki were handed over the Haru, aside from exorcisms, at least until Haru mastered the ability and his father passed his odd peach ring onto him. Haru spent most of his free time at or running errands for the Shop. The routine was good, fulfilling. He was happy to do the work, he found. Being tied to the Shop wasn’t the chore he had thought it might be.

“I love Watanuki too, but you don’t have to do this, you know,” Ayame told him over the phone one day years later when Haru had declined to visit her, reluctant to leave Watanuki alone. “Just because mom and dad wanted this doesn’t mean you have to want it too.”

“I know,” Haru said. “I didn’t choose it for their sake.”

“Necessity dictates the Shop,” Ayame said after a pause. “Watanuki would be fine if no one was there. I don’t know how, but it would work out.”

“But then he would be alone,” Haru said. “Besides, I enjoy the work.”

Ayame was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment.

“I’ll see you at the wedding though, right?” she asked quietly.

“Of course.”

She let out a breath. “I’m glad.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Don’t let what happened to mom and dad happen to you,” she added. “Watanuki can’t be your life, Haru, you know that.”

“I know. He isn’t, he won’t be.” He was important, but Haru knew better. “I’m not our parents.”

“I’m coming to visit next week, with Jiang,” said Ayame, shifting the conversation. “I want to introduce him, but I don’t know how he’ll take it, or if he’ll even be able to see the Shop.”

“If it’s necessary, he will.”

Ayame laughed. “Necessary to meet our wish-granting, unaging, magical uncle. Not sure.”

Haru laughed as well.

“What if Watanuki hates him?” Ayame asked.

“He already said how happy he was for you. He performed the reading, remember?”

“Yeah and he made me pay for it!” Ayame laughed again. “Bottle of good Shaoxing wine, that little drunk. I tried to tell him Shaoxing isn’t anywhere near Hong Kong, but he wasn’t having it.”

Haru laughed along with his sister, but knew why Watanuki took payment. Ayame did too; they had seen it before. Only once, on an off day, a long time ago.

“Oh, I have to go. The rice is done. Tell everyone hello, and don’t tell Watanuki I’m visiting soon. I want to see if I can surprise him.”

“You’ll never be able to.”

“I can try.”

////

Watanuki was not at all surprised and had even “coincidentally” made Ayame’s favorite cake that day. Jiang was able to enter the shop and meet Watanuki, and it seemed everyone got along. Ayame had Watanuki’s approval to marry Jiang, as if not having it would have stopped her in any way. They all split that Shaoxing wine Ayame had bought and enjoyed each other’s company.

Haru couldn’t help but think about what his future spouse might think of the situation.

He was in his twenties and by all accounts should have been dating, but so few people caught his eye, and even fewer were comfortable with the supernatural. There was Natsumi, but when Haru tried to really explain his “part-time job” to her, she left. Then of course there was Kaito, but his dream was to live in Paris and Haru would never hold him back from that.

It wasn’t until years later that Haru found someone: Reiko. She was a customer, in fact, which made everything somewhat easier to explain. Watanuki called it hitsuzen when she walked in, then again when they began dating, Haru was inclined to agree.

Her wish was to forget a very painful memory; her price to never forget another memory as long as she lived. Each moment, burned into her brain permanently. She went through with it. Haru never learned what the memory was, but it must have been terrible, for the price caused her grief throughout her life.

Watanuki was affected oddly by the wish, likely due to his own, entirely opposite memory woes.

Haru was reminded of the egg. The woman who would become his wife was happier without the memory, she said, though a large part of her life seemed to be missing. When he questioned her, she said she really didn’t know what the memory was, just that the heartache from remembering everything else was less than the heartache of whatever she had wished to erase.

He didn’t know what this meant for the egg. Whether it made him hate it more, or less.

Reiko was a wonderful woman. Fiery, but kind-hearted. It wasn’t for a long time that Haru explained the full situation. He had explained it previously as helping out a family friend, but she knew it went deeper than that, despite never asking. Reiko never pushed for information from him, though she was observant enough to know Haru wasn’t being completely honest with her.

He proposed to her over a homemade dinner. Neither of them matched Watanuki’s skill in the kitchen alone, but together they surpassed him, at least in Haru’s opinion. He could almost taste the love between them when he ate a meal they prepared together. That’s how Haru knew she was the one. Not because their cooking was inherently better, but because the emotions they had combined made something beautiful. She accepted, and the wedding plans began. It was a few days later that Haru decided to truly have the discussion with her.

“Reiko,” he began, fiddling with the ring on his finger, so close to the one given to him by his father. “There’s something we should talk about.”

She nodded, and they sat in the living room, neither talking for a moment.

“Haru, what is it?” she finally asked.

“I want a future with you, Reiko,” he finally got out, “but if you want a future with me, I need to tell you the whole truth.”

She nodded again, listening fully.

When she looked Haru in the eyes, he felt that she could see everything in him, and he wanted her to see it. When he met her eyes, they felt warm, welcoming. It wasn’t simply he had her attention, but that she wanted to be a part of it as well. She drew herself in, becoming part of whatever Haru came to her with. A partnership. It was a feeling he relished and hoped to never lose.

“It’s about Watanuki.”

////

Reiko came to the Shop after work as she did most days, waiting for Haru to emerge. The lot was empty, but she knew there was a shop there, she had seen it herself two years, three months, and twelve days previous. She remembered every detail of the building and surrounding garden. Everything burned into her brain as if she was looking at it as she thought of it. It was for that reason that she knew it must exist. That, and the fact that her fiancé worked at that shop sometimes. The owner, that Watanuki, was a family friend, apparently. She would wait for Haru outside the empty lot and they would walk home together hand in hand. It was a lovely routine, and the more routines she had, the less memories it felt she was harboring.

As she approached that day, however, the shop was in plain view, exactly as she recalled it in her head, though the flowers were in bloom now.

The young boy who had granted her wish stood outside with a hose, watering bushes before he saw her looking at him. He seemed surprised, then gestured for her to come in.

“I see you’ve made your way back,” he said as they sat at his low, Japanese-style table.

Reiko stared at him, for Watanuki looked the same as he had two years, three months, and twelve days ago.

“Yes,” she said, trying not to let her confusion show.

“Congratulations are in order, I hear,” he said. “Haru-kun told me.”

Haru-_kun_?

“Ah, but he hasn’t told you much about me, has he?” Watanuki asked, frowning and looking distant as he lit a long, slender pipe. “Just like him.”

“How are you…”

He smiled then, and took a long breath from the pipe.

“This shop is here for necessity,” he said, ignoring her unspoken question. “That you are here today means it is necessary. I granted your wish in the past, yes, but you never returned, though I have seen you outside.”

She nodded. “I wait for Haru and we walk home together.”

“So he’s told me. But why, now, have you returned to my shop?”

Watanuki leaned forward, an elbow on the table and chin in his hand, smiling softly. His mismatched eyes looked past her, beyond her, to who-knew-where. She didn’t feel pinned down by his gaze as much as seen through.

“It’s not a wish,” he seemed to decide before taking another breath from the pipe. “Hm.”

“You’re exactly as I remember,” she said slowly. “You’re wearing different clothes, but everything else is exactly…”

If Reiko knew anything by now, it was that people change constantly. It’s not just aging, but in bearing, in speech, in mannerisms. There truly was no such thing as an unchanging person, even from one day to the next. Every memory she had of every person she met in her life since coming to this shop said so, but when she compared the Watanuki in front of her to the perfect memory of the Watanuki from two years, three months, and twelve days prior, they were identical. She looked and looked for anything that might show a difference, but found nothing.

He smiled softly, though it appeared tight in the eyes. “Yes.”

“That’s impossible,” she told him, though clearly it wasn’t. “How?”

“Haru will talk to you tonight. I’ll let him do so.”

His face went still then, impassive. She couldn’t read any emotion on him, and she had gotten unbearably good at reading people.

“As for why you are here in my shop, Reiko-chan, I believe I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, now that the two of you are engaged.”

Reiko left soon after, confused and somewhat annoyed.

She and Haru cooked together that night. A simple meal, just some cold soba noodles and fresh vegetables. Haru always chose the best vegetables. Never a single bad or even mediocre vegetable. She was keeping track though—one day he would have to falter.

She debated bringing up her odd encounter, but thought against it, enjoying the time spent with her fiancé. After dinner, she was about to bring it up, unable to hold back any longer. Watanuki had said Haru would talk to her, but so far, nothing.

Just as she took a breath to speak, Haru spoke instead, fiddling with his engagement ring. It was a nervous habit, but usually he did it with his odd wooden ring. She tried not to read into it.

“Reiko, there’s something we should talk about.”

Well _now_ she was reading into it.

She nodded and they moved to the living room to sit. She looked at Haru, trying to tell herself there was nothing to worry about. Nothing in his facial expression declared bad news, and his demeanor was nothing like the time they had nearly broken up one year, two months, one day ago.

It was quiet for a long moment and Reiko couldn’t take it anymore.

“Haru, what is it?” she asked.

“I want a future with you, Reiko,” he finally said, “but if you want a future with me, I need to tell you the whole truth.”

She held his gaze, hoping to be brought into whatever it was that had him so wound up. She assumed it must be about the Shop. It can’t be coincidence that the day she stumbles back into the shop is the day Haru decides to sit down and talk with her, right?

“It’s about Watanuki,” Haru continued, confirming what Reiko had suspected.

“I thought so.”

Haru seemed confused, but kept going. “He… You know he grants wishes.”

“Yes.”

“And does magic.”

“I’m aware. And you help him because he is a family friend, somehow,” she said. “Though I don’t see how; he can’t be older than…” Well, he had to be an adult. He had such a young face, but he smoked, and drank. “Twenty,” she decided, choosing the minimum age to do so. “Or, twenty-two… it’s been two years. But he…”

Haru nodded. “Seventeen, actually. Or that’s what my father says. Since I’ve known Watanuki, he’s been that age.”

She took a moment to consider this information, and threw out her theory.

“He doesn’t age then,” she said, then thought better of it. “No, that’s not it… he’s frozen.”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“I saw him today. I went to the Shop to meet you and it was… there this time. I spoke with him and he was the same. _Exactly_ the same in every way. It’s not his aging that stopped, it’s his time.”

Haru seemed impressed, and Reiko took a moment to feel self-satisfied.

“It’s a price,” she figured, “isn’t it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“To do that voluntarily… he looked lonely. Talked to his plants as I left.”

“Mm.”

Haru did that sometimes. Didn’t give a full sentence reply. He had done it… 846 times. It irked her. She filed the number away though, as she did every time and would continue to do so for as long as he kept doing it. Likely for the rest of their lives.

“I take it there’s something more to this than his frozen time,” she said, as Haru looked like he wanted to continue.

“Watanuki can’t leave that Shop,” he said quietly. “The reason I help isn’t just because he is my parents’ friend. Any future you have with me would be here, in Tokyo, not far from the Shop. No… vacations. No honeymoon. No trips. No moving for work or for a change of scenery. I need to be here for him.”

That, Reiko could understand.

“He is important to you,” she said. “I get that. As long as _I’m_ important to you too, I don’t need to travel to fancy places around the world or move to an exotic location, as long as I’m here with you.”

She took his hand and squeezed it tight, then frowned at him.

“I can’t believe you waited until after we were engaged to tell me this. What if I’d booked plane tickets to Bali or something?”

“Did you?”

“No, but I could have.”

Haru laughed, and she did as well. The situation would be a strange one, and this certainly wasn’t what she expected out of a spouse, out of her life, but… if it was with Haru, she could make it work.

////

The wedding took place one year and three days later, on the 17th of April. It was a small ceremony, attended only by close family and friends. The wedding was Shinto, at the behest of Reiko’s very traditional mother, the only family she had left aside from one half sister. When she thought too hard about the rest of her family, she just got a headache, so she didn’t bother. She was close enough to them that she didn’t feel the need to dig any deeper.

Haru’s father ran a Buddhist temple, and Reiko was concerned there would be a disagreement, but his family, in particular his great-grandfather, was Shinto as well, having found a coexistence between the two beliefs, so the wedding received approval from both sides of the family.

In fact, it received approval from said great-grandfather, Haruka, who was Haru’s namesake. This was done via Watanuki, who often saw Haruka in his dreams. Apparently he approved of Reiko as well, saying that she was good for Haru and good for the Doumeki family. She would consider that flattering if it wasn’t a compliment from a ghost in someone else’s dream. When Watanuki passed that message along, he apparently laughed and simply gave further approval.

Yes, this was an odd family she would be marrying into, but she was certain this was the right move. She spoke with her new brother-in-law, Jiang Hsu about the oddities of the family, and he shrugged, saying he just went with it. Ayame, his wife and Haru’s sister, saw spirits, but it didn’t much affect their daily life and it seemed their son couldn’t see them. Reiko wondered about her future children. Ayame herself gave congratulations and told her they could visit anytime they pleased, but Reiko wasn’t much sure that she and Haru could be away long enough to warrant a trip all the way to the United States.

Haru’s father was as stoic as ever, and said very little aside from congratulations and encouragement. It was apparently a Doumeki trait (aside from Ayame, it seemed) and Reiko would just have to get used to it. That was okay though, because Reiko knew how to hold a conversation, whether or not the other party was interested. Haru’s mother was soft and fond, offering the sincerest of congratulations and wishing them fortune in their lives. Considering the woman was some sort of fortune teller herself, Reiko figured it actually meant something from her.

The ceremony went smoothly, and the reception went just as well. Watanuki requested that they come by the Shop that night though, saying he had a gift for them, so before they headed to their hotel in another part of the city (not too far away, of course) they stopped by the shop.

Reiko was more comfortable around Watanuki now that she saw him more frequently, but the lack of change was off-putting. It seemed he understood though, which he should, as he was also the reason she specifically found it off-putting. To remember every last detail in every memory she makes was frustrating enough, but the memories she made of Watanuki were particularly frustrating because they blended together so well. Reiko liked routines for the same reason that she had a difficult time with Watanuki’s condition, she supposed might be the word for it. Routines blended together and became more like one memory, easy to file away. The walks home with Haru were a good routine, morning jogs were a good routine, watering her plants at the same time every other day was a good routine. Sometimes it felt like a recharge, to simple experience the same occurrence again, not needing to remember more and more for that short time. People weren’t meant to be routines though. People were a story. She filed memories of people together and could see them progress and change, but memories of Watanuki had no visible or audible progress, no chronological sense. It felt like trying to rewrite the same memory over and over but with different context and words, like a double-printed photo. Not only that, but she found the concept of an unchanging person was deeply unsettling somewhere deep inside. She dealt with it though, as she and Watanuki got along so well when she managed to push that aside. In paying further attention too, she grasped the tiny, incredibly tiny changes in Watanuki. Mostly in words and habits and moods, but even the tiniest difference did wonders to ease her discomfort.

After the reception, they came through the shop doors, Reiko still in the uchikake kimono she had borrowed from Watanuki. He had an oddly extensive collection of women’s clothing, which Haru told her belonged to the original Shopkeeper. Watanuki wore them, sometimes. By her estimation based on the catalogue of his outfits she had in her memory… At least 25% of the time he wore clearly feminine clothing, 25% of the time clearly masculine, and the rest of the time it was ambiguous. No matter what, they always seemed to suit him though.

They entered the shop grounds and we directed to go around back to Watanuki, who was sitting on the porch with an unopened bottle of alcohol.

“I always told your father to come in the front. I suppose I just gave up by the time it got to you,” he said with a smile. Reiko didn’t understand, but Haru laughed. Watanuki looked to Reiko then, eyes far away, smile soft, and eyebrows knit tight.

“Reiko-chan, that kimono suits you well,” he said. “With your hair like that, you remind me of someone I knew once.”

Watanuki seemed lost in thought. Whoever it was, they must have been an incredibly important person. 

“Won’t you both sit down?” he asked, then gestured to the bottle.

Haru picked it up, then sat down and Reiko sat beside him.

“No label. Did you make this?”

Watanuki nodded. “The day you told me you were engaged. Plum wine. You can open it now, or save it for an occasion. Though I’d say it is an occasion now” He smiled wide, out of whatever memory he had been in moments before.

“Should we save it, or open it?” Haru asked Reiko.

“I want to save it,” she told him. “Ah, but as he said, it is an occasion.”

“What occasion?” Haru teased.

“Full moon,” she said, pointing at the sky. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Haru looked and nodded.

“But is it worth us opening this priceless bottle of alcohol made with such care by our dear friend?”

She hummed. “Oh, I’m not sure.”

Watanuki stood and waved a hand. “I get it, I get it, I’ll go grab another bottle for tonight and the two of you can save that for another time.”

As Watanuki disappeared back into the Shop, Mokona bounded up—another unchanging being. The Shop was full of those.

“You got Watanuki to go get something good good good!” it cheered, then raised its little hand or paw or whatever it was to high-five Haru. “I told him to get it earlier but he didn’t listen.”

“Mm.”

1,284.

“How does daiginjō-shu sound?”

Watanuki walked back out across the porch in his bare feet with his odd robes billowing behind him in the chilly breeze. Reiko wondered just how many outfits he had, as she had never seen him repeat an outfit, occasional kappōgi aside. 

Mokona leaped into the air in joy, Haru nodded, and Reiko clapped as she saw the bottle.

“Ah, I forgot the cups,” Watanuki realized as he sat down. “Haru-kun, do you mind?”

“In the kitchen?” Haru asked, already standing and on his way.

“I believe so.”

Mokona followed Haru inside, and Watanuki turned to Reiko, face carefully blank. So carefully.

“Thank you again, for lending me the kimono and kanzashi,” she said. “I will return them soon.”

“Keep the kanzashi,” Watanuki told her. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

Reiko hesitated, distinctly recalling (not that she ever had an _indistinct_ recollection) something she had heard Haru say in passing.

“Won’t that hurt?” she asked. “Giving a gift.”

“Then consider it payment, if you’d like,” he amended. “As for me, I would like if you were to call it a gift.”

Then it wasn’t a gift. For everything that Haru and Reiko would put into the Shop, they would have to get out of the Shop as well. Everything they offered Watanuki would be paid in kind, in one way or another.

Reiko thought that must be an awfully sad way to live.

“In that case, thank you,” she said. “For the gift.”

He smiled. “Reiko-chan, no matter what, remember that you are Haru-kun’s most important person. And don’t you let Haru-kun forget either.”

“Oh, I’d hardly consider you competition, Watanuki,” she teased, and he laughed lightly, then his face went still again.

“Haru-kun’s parents were different. They grew to love each other, of course, but…”

Reiko understood. She knew that Haru’s parents were friends with Watanuki, but by what Watanuki was saying, it was deeper than that. The look in his eyes and the clench of his jaw spoke for him. The guilt on his face that he wore from time to time.

“You didn’t force that,” she told him, unable to stop whatever protectiveness she was feeling toward what looked like such a young boy. “From what I know of Haru’s father and mother, if they make a decision, it’s their own. Just like how staying is our decision, so that… guilt that you’re feeling? Toss it out, you don’t need it.”

Watanuki’s eyes widened, only barely, and Reiko caught a glimpse at a few new emotions from him: surprise and relief.

Haru returned then before they had a chance to continue their conversation. They each poured each other a drink of the sake and raised their cups.

Watanuki smiled. “Welcome to the family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked Reiko as much as I did.
> 
> Anyways, this is the last fully-written chapter. I have a vague idea of another one, if people are interested in it.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I've only ever written Watanuki POV (maybe Kohane once?) for xxxHOLiC so this story has been really interesting! Shout out to arisprite who taught me how to write Doumeki. No longer must I rely on them (much)!
> 
> As always, love it, hate it, apathetic, wanna say hi, or have another prompt for me? Leave a comment! I love to hear from y'all!


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